


Cat's Out the Bag

by Ukthxbye



Series: drabbles and prompts [20]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Awesome Molly Hooper, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Mutual Pining, POV Sherlock Holmes, Post-Season/Series 04, Romantic Fluff, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper Friendship, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, found kitten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:02:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21540316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ukthxbye/pseuds/Ukthxbye
Summary: A kitten finds its way home with Sherlock. Sherlock calls on Molly for aid as he does so often but gets more than he expected.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Series: drabbles and prompts [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1164341
Comments: 16
Kudos: 96





	Cat's Out the Bag

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thestarlitrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thestarlitrose/gifts).



Sherlock Holmes's muscles twitched, his fingers drumming silent on his knees. He'd crouched against the wall, left ear pressed listening to every word through the thin plaster so long the tingle in his toes distracting. His back found little support in the side of an abandoned sofa he shifted against.

He considered dropping to his knees, but he knew the lower unit occupied. Every minute precious to finish this case and he must stay rooted here. High hopes of a confession and more importantly, a location of stolen jewels. The conversation in his ear lulled, and he pressed tighter to sense if the suspects moved, eyes squeezed shut.

A small flick against his right ear. He opened his eyes wide. He turned his head slow, careful to keep his body in control and his feet still against the wood floor. But nothing there. He pressed his left ear fast to the wall again.

_An insect. Nothing more._ He listened intent on his case and the reward for his diligence soon came. The corners of his lips rose as he stood, slipping his mobile out of his jacket pocket, texting the location of the jewels to DI Lestrade.

But once again he employed great restraint as the edge of his trousers tugged against something... or by something. A mystery. One he should be compelled to seek out an answer for, but for haste needed in his exit. He padded silent searching out of the view of the window but could see nothing but the abandoned sofa. He checked his watch, and once more an ear to the wall, ensuring they remained in the flat next door. Satisfied, he grabbed his large satchel, turning the flap to close it and exited.

He pondered if the bag weighed more than usual as he took the stairs. But the tingle in his toes and feet turned to temporary pain distracted him and he pressed on to 221b. He knew it would be empty, John on a date this evening. 

The room darker than usual, curtains drawn to shield against the coming chilly November night. Sherlock tossed his satchel to the sofa stepping to his chair in the darkened room hearing the familiar clink of tools but his steps frozen at a whole new sound. A screeching meow. 

He analyzed the sound and assured himself it came from the same location. His arm reached out to the lamp, clicking it on, studying the sofa once his eyes adjusted. But he saw no cat. Only his bag. Sherlock's brow knitted as he took wide slow steps to the satchel. He paused, attentive to any noise coming from it. No movement either.

  
  


He shook his head as he lifted the flap, "Surely it was just the tools not an AAAAH" Two bright yellow eyes and a blur of black filled his vision. Claws at his chest and then gone before his hands could grasp the animal. 

He pivoted on his heels and his eyes scanned to find the blur of black in the corner. Yellow orbs reflecting the lamp light wide and _scared._

"You're a tiny stowaway," he whispered to the kitten. He noticed now impossible for it to be an adult cat. Pure black. _Explains why I did not observe it earlier if it hid_ , he assured himself. Sherlock crouched low, both cat and human observing in silence and stillness. He noted the hair lowering on its back and continued to talk in a low voice.

" I mean you no harm, quite sorry about the tools but you chose your mode of transport, not I."

More hair lowered and it laid down on the floor. Sherlock shuffled his feet to move toward the cat but regretted it immediately. It quickly took off, shooting past him and headed toward his bedroom. Sherlock grunted as he stood, pulling his mobile up. He needed expertise and when it came to cats, he lacked the intimate and practiced knowledge required. But he knew someone who would. She always helped him. 

He typed out **Please come to 221b and bring toys** when he heard a noise like something falling in his room. He sprinted to his bedside, seeing a bauble rocking on the floor but no cat. When he felt his phone buzz in his grip, he glanced to see his thumb slipped, sent the text unfinished and Molly responded.

**Bold I like it but maybe take me to dinner first?-MH**

Confused for but a moment, he ignored the conflicting thoughts and focused on pressing matters.

**There is a cat loose in the flat. I require your expertise.-SH**

**This is an odd game.-MH**

**No game is being played. It followed me home, in a way. Now it is hiding again from me.-SH**

**Put out a saucer of milk near the door it will see itself out perhaps? *shrug emoji* -MH**

The dots danced as she typed a response but they disappeared without another text. .

**I do not believe it will be that simple. I need someone with more experience.-SH**

**Too much after the workday I had. There you go flirting again. Again such an odd game. -MH**

Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose but did not allow her to dwell on those assumptions.

**Molly, please. It is a kitten and it could be hurt I know it's scared. Please come to 221b and help me.-SH**

He waited and sensed her pausing. He could almost picture her doing so, her top teeth scraping lightly over her bottom lip. Why did he think of that?

**It really is a kitten then isn't it? I'll be right over.-MH**

Sherlock left the cat to its own in his room, shut the door and shuffled his way to his chair to wait. He text John but his phone sent an automatic message.

**Date, Sherlock. No bloody cases. None. No. If you are dying call Greg or Molly. -JW**

His groan matched his further slump in the chair, leather and metal creaking. So he waited for Molly and listened. No more noises from the room and he went into deeper thought.

Something snapped into his forethought. Molly might want tea. She just got off work after all. Tea sounded wonderful. He sat up properly stiff-spined at the prospect. Did he have any biscuits? Or perhaps he could order takeout while Molly dealt with his kitten issue? _Yes_. She liked Angelos he assumed; she ate a healthy portion of the lasagna at Greg's birthday party he recalled.

He owed her... well, quite a bit. Years of debt if he allowed the calculations. Other observations threatened a peaceful compromise they reached that he'd set in stone in his mind. Friendship paramount in their relations and an ease found its way to their interactions despite his sister's torture. Enough that texts like earlier not as unusual as in their past. He learned to ask "please". A codeword now between them. One she in instinct knew an assurance of his sincerity. 

But it would be remiss to believe she might not be hungry after work, he decided. He pushed away any further ruminations with standing and calling in the dinner order. 

He sat with his laptop and didn't notice time passing until he heard the key in the door and Molly climbing the stairs. He counted each footfall and only noticed he held his breath the entire time when she opened the door, arms ladened with bags. He rose and in two steps he relieved her of the burdens. 

"Hey, made a quick stop for some kitten food, poor thing is probably hungry," Molly smiled, sighed her eyes searching the room as she slipped off her coat. He shifted the items to one arm, took it from her with a nod and hung it up. 

They stood in silence as she unraveled her scarf. The pink and black one. He stared at it. The one she wore that day. He kissed her cheek. He said a goodbye because of Tom, _but why?_

"You sure you're ok, Sherlock?" Molly waved her hand in front of his eyes, breaking the thought.

"Yes. To the kitten?"

He motioned to his room, "Yes. It crawled in my bag while I was on a case."

She only nodded as she stepped toward his room.

He followed her as she opened the door with caution, scanning the room. She produced a small ball with a bell from her pocket, jingling it. Sherlock leaned against the door frame as she dropped to the floor looking under his bed.

"Have you started studying and cataloging dust in addition to ash?" she said.

He blinked, realizing too late he'd been staring. "I don't have a housekeeper, as Mrs Hudson so often points out. I hardly ever sleep in here, anyway."

"True. You've been my bed more often, probably." She chuckled as she stood but he noted the catch at the end. She did not err in her words but in his room it somehow hung in the air longer than comfortable.

Molly walked to his cupboard and leaned over searching. He stepped around the bed. Sherlock observed her lips pull back into a grin. She turned her face back to his and his lips matched hers. She pointed to the corner, and he stepped to join her but she waved him back with a frown. He stopped and stepped back to sit on his bed's edge, letting his weight settle slow to keep the creak of the mattress quiet.

His mouth opened to speak, but no words came out as she backed up and sat close, arms brushed together beside him on the bed. She put her finger to her lips, nodding at the cupboard. With a flick of her wrist she rolled the jingling ball out her hand. 

Sherlock inspected her face, relaxed and waiting. A prickling grew in his arm where her's brushed against. Another at his leg where their thighs sat against the other. Warmth as the nerves and blood reacted. A helplessness washed over him and he couldn't move. His mouth drying as she turned catching his gaze. She whispered as she leaned in, " Watch this," pulling another tiny jingle ball from her pocket and giving it a toss near the window. It bounced once, the kitten emerged pouncing and sent it back into the wall.

"See?" She grinned bright eyed, and he cut his eyes to the kitten, smacking the ball with its paw. So tiny and yet fierce, he mused. But all disappeared as the pressure on his thigh increased in another spot. His eyes glanced at her hand pressing into it to aid her rising from the bed. Brief as it was, it planted him to the spot as if she'd nailed a stake through it.

"Molly…" he began soft and low. 

"Hmm?" she said over her shoulder, leaning over tapping her fingers at the floor to entice the kitten. 

The buzzer downstairs rang loud and the cat and Sherlock jumped at it. The kitten scurried off but only to a corner. 

"It ok baby, " she whispered at the kitten. She turned her head to Sherlock, "Expecting someone?" 

He gulped standing fast, surprising himself at the light-headedness, "I ordered dinner."  
  


"OH, well I'll feed this little one and be on my way then." 

She said it too casually, he thought.

"But no...I... I ordered enough for us both." He stammered it a bit he realized, but it confounded him. Every interaction tonight had, but no time allowed to process its reasons. "Angelos... if that is ok."

"Oh… ok."

With that he exited the room and down the stairs with speed, gathering food and signing the slip without a word. But the going back up a greater mountain to climb and his legs wearied. _Was this... a date? No, we've eaten food before. We solved crimes, dug through bodies. Tonight just happened to be a kitten rescue... of sorts. Friends do this, yes?'_

His thoughts uncollected but he brought in the food standing tall, his ear catching her in his washroom. 

"Just getting it some water and I'll be there for food. I'm starving." she yelled down from his room. 

He set the food on the floor, seeing the coffee table still full from his last case. He cleared it with haste, stacking papers, folders, and photos up high on his desk. He sat to place the food there but the dirt apparent. Perhaps it might remind her about the state of the floor under his bed. _Yes, that is what it is._ But he rose and scrambled for a towel in the kitchen to clean it. He peeked to see if she approached. 

"Tea?" he yelled to her, sensing she was still in his room.

"Yeah thanks!"

Filling the kettle, he set it and snatched the towel up, setting to work. A sticky spot refused and caught at the towel. A run under water to dampen it ideal but no time. The cloth knocked most of the dust off and sopped up some spilled tea from earlier that sat uncongealed. As he cleaned his thoughts contradicted themselves, causing him to pause, stare and begin again with more fervor. Surely she wouldn't care about the messy table. She never did before. Yet he felt no stronger compulsion than to present it in a better light. _Light!_ A misshaped candle sat near his bookcase but he paused at the implications. _No, leave it be._

He gave one last rub at the table and when he lifted his head, his eyes met hers. Was that mirth shining in them? 

"I'll get the tea, you sit—" she started.

"No."  
  


"No?"

"No, you're.... you helped, you sit and eat I'll get it. You said you were starving, right?"

"Hyperbole I know but..." Her giggle showed nerves. Nerves he missed earlier. _Did she... but no._

She swallowed hard. "I'll get the tea, you got me food."

He let a smile take over. He knew it was faint. Maybe a bit fake. He wanted her to sit so he could burn off some energy before he was forced to sit as well. He needed to drop her gaze, but they never did easily. One piece of a puzzle he shoved in the corner.

She turned and stepped into the kitchen with no more argument.

He arranged the food, covering the offensive spots. 

She made his tea perfect. Knowing this made his chest ache and when she handed him the breadsticks to share, he couldn't be sure he'd be able to eat a bite. 

Her side didn't touch his now like it did on his bed. But an odd tingle remained to his surprise. They'd sat many times as of late, pouring over evidence when he called. He'd called more often as John needed time with Rosie. She'd answered the texts, same as days before. This wasn't a date. They didn't date. But this wasn't business. Something else intangible hung like smoke between them, he mused as he searched her face. The compulsion to mention such reflections overtook him.

"Molly…"

But her face turned to the direction of his room and her hand laid light on his arm. He stared at it a moment, but his eyes lifted to see the tiniest blur of black sneaking its way around the edges of the room. 

"Here baby it's ok. You smelled food?"

"Can... should cats eat this?" Sherlock asked.

Molly smirked. "No probably not but I'm not gonna deny it a breadstick."

The fuzzy ball of black blur disappeared under the table. They waited watching and soon, with the tiniest of meow two yellow orbs looked up wide eyes. Sherlock lowered a slow steady had, offering a pinch off breadstick. The kitten sniffed and his hand twitched at the whiskers. It ate greedily and when it finished, rocked on its hind legs and jumped on the sofa between them. 

Molly laughed as she moved her hand from Sherlock to pet the kitten, "You're a bold little one." It rubbed and crawled into her lap.

Sherlock studied her as she lifted and inspected the cat. Her smile told him the kitten appeared healthy. She set it back down in her lap, fingers giving soft scratches behind its ears. The content look on both her and the kitten soothing something frantic in him to his surprise. 

With another meow, the kitten stumbled from Molly's lap to his, crawling up his chest and on to his shoulder "Molly... I"

"I think you got a pet cat now."

"Molly," He sighed as his hand found its way to repeated the scratches she did to its ears. " No. You should take it. "

"Me? She huffed. "Toby is a one cat kind of cat. He wouldn't let in an adult cat, much less a kitten"

"Shame really."

"How so?"  
  


A wild erratic thought flew across his mind. Something future and far too risky to speak. He said the rational thought instead.

"You're the experienced cat owner. That's all."  
  
"I'll help you" She smiled before scooping up the last bite of lasagna and wiping her mouth with a new napkin.

He stared now. He knew its effect. His fingers absently rubbed at the kitten, kneading his shoulder to make a place to lay.

"You always do."

He spied the gulp and relished feeling the upper hand for once this evening.

She laid her hand on his and the advantage hollowed.

"Sherlock I think…"

"We discussed this... and yet."

"Yes."

"I... wait have you been—"

"A bit? It's not fair really, but you never played fair." The lip bite. The same one he imagined earlier. He sucked in a hard breath. 

"My thoughts confound me. My thoughts are... you understand how that—"

"Is confounding?" Her smile there but weakened as her brow furrowed. "So the cat's out of the bag... quite literally."

In spite nervous energy threatening, he snickered with her. 

"Your jokes are terrible, Molly."

"You still love me."

Her voice light but her eyes wide as her jaw dropped with his. But he spoke first, unsteady at first. He knew silence could only hang there for a moment. 

He near whispered, "We never took the words back… I never really could." 

"Then what do we do with those words now?"

"What comes naturally I believe." He said it but confidence still evaded him.

"I can go slow." She half shrugged. He'd learned that meant it was a half truth, hiding something else.

"Glacial?" His own attempt at a joke. 

"It's our natural speed I think," she countered.

He shook his head. "That's not a funny joke anymore."

"Why?"

With that he leaned in, pausing just before letting his lip caress her cheek, lingering longer than two before. He leaned back, seeking her eyes, but they closed, her mouth open in heavy breathing.

When she opened them, he spied the tears at the edges and his thumb found them before they could fall. He reached up and removed the sleeping kitten on his shoulder, cradling it against his chest before setting it on a soft pillow on the sofa. It stirred but curled up and continued its slumber. 

He turned, nerves on fire as he shifted close to her, "Perhaps this isn't—"

With that he reached a hand caressing her jaw, wrapping his fingers around to the base of her skull. Her tremble evident and he placed the other hand on hers to steady his own. This isn't a moment to be timid he reminded himself. 

"You're backing down now? When you are so so close? Now... where is that steel spine I love."

"You love that then? Perhaps I should--"

He brought his lips within a breath's distance, "Shhh... we both talk too much" and covered her mouth with his. 

His hesitation crept in but her boldness returned answering him. When they parted to catch their breath, he realized tears sat in his eyes as well. 

"So…"

"So..."

"That was pretty awesome even if it took years to get."

She grinned wide, taking his hands into hers. 

"You're correct as always, my Molly."

It felt right those words leaving his lips but so did her nuzzling her face into his neck and chest. He wrapped her into a hug and ignore their heartbeats beating fast.

"So what you gonna name it?" she murmured into his chest. 

"A bold name fitting it well. My therapist will have words about it I'm sure."

"Oh?'  
  
He smiled, deep and content, holding her tight to him "Blackbeard."

"Aye, it be a fine name for a lad or lass." 

He held her closer to him, glancing at the kitten, "Aye."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in novel writing mode but I needed another writing exercise thanks to Thestarlitrose for the prompt on the sherlolly discord.
> 
> Thanks to Mouse9 for her insistence I keep this word count reasonable.


End file.
